Mr Bluebird On My Shoulder
by alotofmillion
Summary: DapperDan!Blaine and Disneyland costumer!Kurt. Pure candy cane fluff, in pure Disney style uwu.


DapperDan!Blaine and Disneylandcostumer!Kurt. Pure candy cane fluff, in pure Disney style uwu.

* * *

"Being completely honest with you, when I got the opportunity for the California position, I leapt on it. I mean, Orlando was great and all, but I always wanted to see the West Coast. Coming from Ohio, I never actually thought I'd get the opportunity to live here, let alone work. But working at this park is going to be amazing. Walking down the same paths Walt did, you know? Walk in his legacy, if you — ow."

Blaine gave a small hiss as Kurt poked him in the side of the leg with the needle, shooting him a playful glare before he shifted his weight on his feet. Kurt gave him a small smile and continued to work.

"Stop fidgeting, I'll get you even harder next time," Kurt murmured, glancing up at him with a slight smile, before he went back to work on hemming Blaine's Dapper Dan costume, which he was set to don "in character" that following Monday as he began his first shift at the Anaheim park.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Blaine remarked airily, glancing back down to Kurt as he gave a flirtatious wink. Kurt let out an exasperated sigh and just chuckled under his breath, continuing to hem Blaine's pant leg.

It was after hours, which meant that most of the office had cleared for the weekend and it was just Kurt, Blaine, and a needle and thread. Hemming may have been on an intern's payroll at that point, but with no one left to take on the task of a last-minute stitching job, it was all left up to Kurt.

Kurt had been working for the Mouse two years that February, and if anyone had told him after NYADA that he'd be thrust back into fashion, let alone working for Disney, he would have scoffed and rolled his eyes and recommended therapy. Performing had been his calling, after all, or that's what it had seemed like at the time. One solid year out of college of waiting tables with only a small handful of callbacks, however, inevitably led him to revaluate his options, and when a completely left-of-center West Coast opportunity fell into his hands (from an ex, no less), Kurt was willing to consider it.

The weather, alone, sold him. Granted, Kurt still loved New York, but not on a starving artist's wages, and not in the dead of winter when it was taking every last dollar to keep the furnace going. He sailed through the interview process with flying colors, his first-hand experience with and the wildly respected Isabelle Wright making a lasting impression, and when he was offered a decent starting salary with promise for growth and all the benefits, Kurt quickly found an apartment in Orange County and settled in on a new life in California.

At first it was grunt work. Hemming here, sewing on sequins there, and measuring and trimming yards of fabric seemingly night and day, but within six months, Kurt was standing alongside the design team and coming up with new and often times off-the-wall looks for the countless number of parades and productions put on at the park. It was all so much more intricate than Kurt ever could have imagined, from the collaboration with the Imaginears as new attractions were conjured up to the slightest seam being in the right place for every Disney Princess.

Despite the fact that within two years, Kurt had increased his salary by a third and was heading into his late twenties with a steady yet invigorating career, he never minded picking up a needle and doing the nitty-gritty work. He even felt a slight amount of pride swell up inside of him at the thought of every little girl (or boy, in his case) staring up at Belle or Aurora, knowing he'd helped contribute to their beautiful gowns. He never imagined himself touching childrens' lives like that or having the opportunity to be a part of the Disney magic; to be quite honest, he hadn't completely bought into that before working for the company. But he worked with amazing people… amazing, driven, creative people, and well, to be honest, he was one of them. It was invigorating.

… And quite frankly, also fast paced. With a slew of new cast members stepping in for the Christmas season coming up, the costuming department was surprisingly short staffed with new holiday-themed designs being conjured up and designed in far too quick a turnaround for Kurt's liking.

He'd had the opportunity to meet with all four new Dans, two of whom were recruits from Florida and the other two hired through the park's open audition process. And as always, they were nothing short of enthusiastic to step into their new positions, but none so much as Blaine Anderson, who - despite every physical indication that he was easily as old as Kurt - bounced around and grinned from ear-to-ear like a kid on Christmas morning, just so grateful to be there every second of every day. He was the epitome of Disney, and if Kurt was being honest, Blaine would actually make a damn good contender for a Prince Eric face character, if only he was a few inches taller.

Kurt had had the pleasure of measuring and hemming his various costumes three times in ten days, and in that time, he'd seriously considered stopping to ask Blaine for his number, just to meet for coffee or something. Now that they were alone, he didn't even know what to say, but thankfully, he didn't have to. Blaine was a talker, that was for sure, and after already splurging that he, too, landed the position through an ex-boyfriend, Kurt had to bite his tongue to ask if he was single.

It was the first time in a while that Kurt had even opened himself up to even considering having a crush on someone, not for lack of heart, but simply because he was something of a workaholic. As awesome as the perks of working for the park were (free admittance whenever or wherever, no matter what, which his parents loved whenever they visited), Kurt never used them to his benefit, and besides that, he didn't get out much.

Which was truly the only thing he disliked about California. Years of walking and riding a bike and commuting via a metal tube in the ground meant he could crisscross around New York with ease, hopping from bars to clubs to theaters and wherever his heart desired. In Anaheim, Kurt had to drive to the nearest hot spot, often times co-mingle around a bunch of college students, and barely touch a drink unless he wasn't the designated driver, and even that wasn't a guarantee that he'd get laid (which sometimes wasn't even worth the effort put in the first place; sometimes).

Despite the fact that Kurt was definitely an attractive, desirable man, the New York and Anaheim crowds were like night and day, and while he was sure he could find a good lay in West Hollywood or even a perfectly suitable boyfriend, the bright lights of LA were a whopping forty minutes away. And that took a lot of effort that he didn't have time for.

As for dating at work… Well. That's where things got more complicated. Or rather, that's where _Kurt_complicated things.

"You've been sewing that spot over and over for the last two minutes in dead silence and you've got a weird, beady look in your eyes. Is everything okay?"

Kurt looked back up as Blaine addressed him once more, and clearing his throat, he moved back up the side of his pant leg with the needle. "It's not a weird, beady look. Your incorrigibly short, hobbit legs tend to make me lose all track of time and space."

Blaine chuckled at that and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling before he began to hum under his breath. No doubt it was one of his harmonies, since it sounded a little off-key to Kurt's ear. Needless to say, they wouldn't have hired him if he was shit, and he may or may not have already scoped out his performances on YouTube.

"So are all your chim-chimminy's cha-roo'd and doo-dah's zip-a-dee'd?" Kurt asked cheekily, staring back up at Blaine as he rolled around on his foot stool to his other leg.

"I'll have you know we have a stirring version of 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' planned that's going to bring the house down." Blaine wiggled his shoulders in pride before grinning back down at Kurt. "Do you sing?"

Now there was a heavy handed question. Kurt shot his brow straight up as he stared down at the floor, clearing his throat softly. "Um. I used to."

It was clear that Blaine had struck a raw nerve, but unlike every other normal person that may catch on to the signs and back away, Blaine probed a bit more. "What do you mean, you used to? Everybody sings. Even in the shower."

Now Kurt was just getting a little annoyed, but he tried not to show it. Especially when he was holding a sharp needle within centimeters of Blaine's leg. "I _used_ to sing. Back in college, it was… one of the reasons I went to school." He mentally chastised himself for the candidness of his statement, and if Blaine's shocked expression was any indication, Kurt had clearly exceeded his expectations.

They were quiet for a good long moment or so before Blaine spoke up once more.

"Where'd you go to school?"

Kurt didn't miss a beat, but he grimaced slightly, focusing on his work. "NYADA."

And once more, Blaine's comically triangular eyebrows shot up. "_NYADA?_ I applied twice to go there. I - I didn't get…" He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, taking it down a few notches. "I was told I had 'spunk' but no real 'substance.'"

Kurt gave him a sympathetic smile. "Carmen Tibideaux has a knack for shrinking people back down to their size. Believe me, she didn't make it easy for me either. I was a wildcard, and besides, getting in is only half the battle won." He rolled his eyes to himself and let out a sigh, wondering sometimes if it even had been worth it in the long run. He tried not to focus on it though, and before Blaine could ask questions, he diverted the conversation. "So where'd you go, if not NYADA?"

Blaine went quiet for a second, and when he spoke up, he was a little croaky. "Oh. Uh, Princeton."

Kurt almost dropped his needle. Right into Blaine's flesh. "Pr-Princeton?!"

"Yeah, it's… it's not that big a deal. Are we almost…" He brought his arm back up to rub the back of his neck, but it was now Kurt's turn to persist and interrupt.

"That's an _Ivy League school_, and you were bent out of shape about not getting into _NYADA? _Damn, if the only thing 'wrong' with you is that you're gay, your parents better to be complaining, because you sound like major model son material. I wouldn't be able to get my dad to shut up if…"

"I dropped out," Blaine murmured, eyes darting around the room before he looked back down at Kurt. When Kurt quirked a brow back up, Blaine repeated himself, biting down on his words. "I dropped out. Sophomore year."

"You - you dropped out," Kurt repeated for verbal affirmation, blinking slowly back up at him.

"Can we not - talk about this?" Blaine asked earnestly. "You're not the first person to judge me for this, and believe me, the verbal lashing from my father isn't exactly something I'd like to relive… besides, is this really professional? And haven't you been working on that pant leg for eight years now?" He breathed another exasperated sigh, and although the latter statement was true (by that point, Kurt just wanted to keep talking to Blaine), it didn't mean anything else was.

"Blaine. Blaine, _hey_," Kurt interjected, pulling the needle away and pressing his hand assuredly against his leg, trying to ignore the soft stir in his chest as he did so. "I'm not judging you. Everybody has their reasons for doing everything, and no one… no one should _judge you_ for making a choice like that. I'm sure it wasn't an easy one to come to either."

Blaine raised a brow at that, silent for a few moments before his mouth wrapped around a soft "yeah." He brought his hand up to rub his own cheek, and before either of them could feel or realize the transition, a surprisingly comfortable silence fell between the two of them, an understanding that they could talk to each other on the same level. Maybe that's all they really needed.

"You're really easy to talk to," Blaine finally spoke again, his words sounding so plain and simple on the outside. He blushed a tiny bit and finally shifted his leg. Kurt hadn't made a single stitch in a while, which meant that he couldn't scream at him or jab him in the skin for so much as twitching.

Kurt smiled back up at him with a light nod before he fanned out Blaine's pant leg and shifted back up to his feet. In a purely professional manner, he felt around Blaine's waist and down the stitching along his side, just to check the practically invisible seams. "Vest feel okay?" He cleared his throat, sounding a little lightheaded.

"Oh, uh, yeah," Blaine reassured, pulling it down a little and smoothing it across his chest before he straightened his little bowtie. "I feel great. Thank you. As usual." He stepped down off the stool and did a little turn in the mirror, and no, Kurt most certainly did not check out his great ass in his festive red trousers.

"You're welcome," Kurt finally spoke up, putting aside the needle and thread as he turned his back to Blaine, which would be his cue to exit. He could still feel his presence lurking behind him, however, and it took every last fragment of diplomacy and respect for him to not ask him to leave. If Blaine had enough gumption, he would make his quiet exit, change back into his regular clothes, and they could both move on with their lives.

"Have dinner with me," fate rang instead, and this time in the key of Blaine Anderson. And when Kurt turned around to face him, he wished he knew how to say no. Instead, he was dead silent, causing Blaine to fidget under his eye. "Or hang out with me, we can rent a movie and just… talk. Either way, I like you, and I'd like to get to know you better."

Kurt raised his brow quickly; if nothing else, Blaine clearly had the capacity to be blunt, and if he wasn't such a good guy (and so damn good looking to boot), Kurt would shoot him down in the easiest way possible. But truthfully, Kurt liked him, too, and the art of liking someone and being liked back didn't come around on a regular basis.

He just had to trust on that and on the simplistic notion that maybe something good would come out of this.

"Okay," Kurt breathed, nodding his head.

"Oh - okay?" Blaine blinked back at him slowly, as if expecting that he'd say no. "Okay? As in, you want to?"

"I want to," Kurt mirrored, nodding once more.

"To which part?"

"All of it. The date, the movie, the talking, the…" He trailed off then and shrugged before he cracked a small smile. Blaine smiled tentatively back before his lips burst into that of a grin.

"Okay… o-okay! Um, great. I…" Blaine repeated once more, sheepishly dropping his eyes back down to the floor once again, which Kurt had to admit was pretty adorable habit of his. He looked back up at him as he spoke again. "Can I have your number?"

Kurt broke the silence by grabbing his phone from off a table and handing it to Blaine to punch in his digits, and once he did so, he handed the phone back to Kurt and reached across the same table to grab his own. Before he could acquire Kurt's number, however, Kurt hit the "call" button on his own mobile, and as Blaine's expression quickly switched from surprise to delight, Kurt couldn't help but chuckle softly under his breath.

"Answer it, someone's calling you," Kurt murmured softly, his pulse pounding in his ears and his cheeks blushing more intensely by the second.

Blaine quickly answered the phone and pressed it to his ear, pretending to act surprised as he took a step back away from Kurt and crossed his arms over his chest. "Uh… hello?"

"Hello, hi, my name is Kurt Hummel, and I'm trying to reach… I believe this says, Dapper-comma-Dan? Is that…?" Kurt bit his lip to keep from grinning and linked eyes with the man across from him. Blaine brushed his fingers over his lips in great amusement.

"Oh, uh, this is actually his secretary, Mr. Blaine D. Anderson. Would you like me to take a message?"

"Mmm, I see," Kurt nodded his head. "Yes, please, Mr. Blaine D. Anderson. Please let Dan know that I'm free this Saturday night, and that if he's not doing anything, I'd love to take him up on his offer."

Blaine nodded his head in exaggeration and jutted out his bottom lip. "Saturday night - would you please hold, Mr. Hummel? I need to check Mr. Dapper's highly booked events calendar." He set the phone to his shoulder and bounced his head back and forth. Kurt looked back at him and mouthed several variations of "what?!" and "are you crazy?" as Blaine continued to hum "hold music" for the next few seconds, before finally he returned back on the line.

"Yes, hi, thank you for holding. I see Dan is free, but on one condition."

Kurt raised his brow in response, as if expecting that to be enough. But oh yeah, _they were on the phone_. Which meant visual cues were out the window. "Um, condition? And what is Dan's _condition?_"

Blaine was clearly having too much fun at Kurt's expense at that point, so much so that Kurt regretted starting this little game in the first place. "You must sing something. One or two bars, nothing more, nothing less. And he mentioned something about distinctly trusting _my_ judgment on this manner."

"Oh, did he?" Kurt's voice was pitched a little lower, not amused, but Blaine simply gave another nod.

"Yes, he did."

Kurt gave Blaine yet another skeptical glare, but if that's the game he was going to play, he left him no choice. The truth was, Kurt really did want to go out with Blaine, at least once just to say how it went. He waited a solid thirty seconds, considering what to sing and why, before he opened his mouth and smiled to himself. He'd let his splendid countertenor tell the rest of the story.

_"Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay…" _He grinned back at Blaine then, who took in a deep breath and let out a pleasant sigh. And while he could whiz through the song in ten seconds flat, he slowed it down just a bit, borrowing a page from his old friend Mercedes Jones.

If at all possible, he gave it soul.

_"My… _oh my_, what a wonderful day."_

He paused for poignancy before continuing, singing just as slowly and blushing harder and harder by the second._ "Plenty of sunshine heading my way."_

Just looking at Blaine, he had a feeling he'd tapped into a 10,000-watt bulb of happiness and exuberance.

"_Zip-a-dee-doo-dah. Zip-a-dee-ay."_

There was a long pause between the two of him, and god, if Kurt knew any better, he would scold himself for serenading Blaine with _that song_, of all the songs in the world. Blaine had been silent for longer than Kurt's comfort level could stomach, and as Kurt spoke up, his voice was shaking just a little.

"Too… too much?"

Blaine shook his head slowly, smiling back at him once again before he looked back at his phone, hung up the line, and approached Kurt, pinning him right against the table with a kiss. Kurt's eyes widened at first in complete shock, but as Blaine didn't pull away, Kurt let out a slow sigh and attempted to ground himself against Blaine's body, lingering against that kiss for as long as he could. Seconds later, Blaine pulled away, but only to speak.

"Everything is _satisfactual_."

Kurt quickly rolled his eyes and scoffed under his breath, wrapping his hands around his waist to pull him in closer. "Oh god, you're so ridiculous… we're so…"

Blaine grinned even wider then, bumping his nose back against Kurt's as he chased his lips, attempting to find them again. "Wonderful feeling, wonderful day?"

Kurt shook his head and dipped his head with another sigh, easily finding his lips once more as he closed his eyes. "Just shut up and kiss me again, Anderson."


End file.
